“Sometimes in the waves of change we find our true direction. There can be no rebirth without the dark night of the soul—a complete dismantling of all you believed yourself to be. Often, it is the deepest pain that empowers us to rise into our higher self.” — Karen Salmansohn
I began to rise, much like the mythical phoenix, from the ashes of my life after the devastating loss of my husband, Sean, my partner of 20 years. Two police officers came to my door and delivered the words that shattered my world: Sean hadn’t survived a tragic car accident. In an instant, my life was divided into before and after. My soul ached in ways I didn’t know were possible. Grief swallowed me whole, and sorrow became my constant companion.
In the weeks that followed, the blows kept coming. I received a foreclosure notice on our home, then another letter informing me the IRS was collecting $26,000 in unpaid business taxes Sean had owed. My heart felt unbearably heavy. Still, I did the only thing I could—I began gathering the shattered pieces of my life and trying to move forward one breath at a time.
I worked to release the pain of the past, to process my anger and heartbreak. I felt lost, terrified, and utterly alone. Slowly, I began practicing forgiveness and distancing myself from people who no longer served my healing. It was exhausting, lonely work, but necessary.
One evening, while watching the movie Spirit with my children, I unexpectedly broke down. The story of the wild mustang—captured, broken, stripped of freedom—felt like my own reflection staring back at me. Spirit once ran free, surrounded by family and open skies, until everything was taken away. That was me. I whispered through tears, “God, please take it all. I surrender. I will accept what I cannot change.”
Two years after Sean’s death, something extraordinary happened—another pivotal moment in my rebirth. That day, my body and soul felt crushed beneath the weight of grief, responsibility, and despair. I was barely holding on. Inside, I felt numb and hopeless, even contemplating ending my life. I felt trapped, desperate, and completely defeated, pleading with God for direction.
The stress had manifested physically. I suffered from constant migraines, yet I couldn’t afford rest. I had four small children who depended on me. One afternoon, while doing laundry, I found $40 in the dryer—money I didn’t remember having. I stared at it, calculating necessities. It felt like a gift, unexpected and perfectly timed. To me, it was “angel money.”
After talking with my mom, she suggested I book a massage to help ease the stress. Using that $40, I scheduled an appointment at Massage Envy. I had no idea that decision would change my life.
The moment I entered the room, everything felt different. The woman who greeted me radiated warmth. Her presence was calming, almost otherworldly. She wore flowing clothes, crystals, and carried an energy I couldn’t explain. When she smiled and met my eyes, it felt as though she could see straight into my soul.
As the session began, she spoke of my aura, my sadness, the heaviness in my heart. I was stunned. I hadn’t said a word. Overwhelmed, I broke down. She knew me—deeply, instantly. There was no judgment, only compassion and understanding. It felt as though we had known each other forever.
She guided me through a powerful spiritual exercise. I imagined myself in my closet, my safe place, surrounded by Sean’s clothes. She asked me to picture Jesus with me there. As I did, an indescribable peace washed over me. For the first time in years, I felt safe.
She led me through forgiveness—calling forth every person who had hurt me, placing each wound into imagined jars. I screamed, cried, and released years of buried rage and pain. One by one, I forgave them. As I did, the dark contents of the jars turned clear.
Then she asked me to give the jars to Jesus. I resisted at first, overwhelmed by guilt and shame. But as I surrendered them, He accepted each one with love. When the jars were gone, He presented me with a gift—a radiant new heart, sparkling and whole. He placed it within me, and for the first time, I felt free.
When I came back to myself, the woman smiled gently. I thanked her, gathered my things, and left—only to realize I’d forgotten my purse. When I returned, she was gone. No one at the spa had any record of her. It was as if she had vanished completely.
I later returned, determined to thank her. Still, no one knew who I was talking about. There was no trace of her existence. I believe, without question, that I encountered an angel that day—sent to save me in my darkest hour.
Another confirmation came when my neighbor Gene shared something that stunned me. He told me that on the night Sean died, he saw Sean sitting beside me, dressed in white, glowing with light. His words brought me deep comfort. I knew Sean had been with me.
I believe angels are real. They walk among us, especially when we are brokenhearted and searching for hope. Pain, as I learned, can be a sacred teacher.
Grief never truly ends, but it softens. Today, I wake up grateful. Our family has healed and continues moving forward through love. Love truly does conquer all.
Sean, I still carry you with me. You live in my heart, my dreams, and my memories. Our story did not end—it simply transformed.
“If love alone could have saved you, you would have lived forever.”
